So Nick and I were hanging out in TTAG’s top secret above-ground bunker, messing around with a new Kinetic Development Group forend and stock for my FN SCAR-16. When Nick finished the install, our newly svelte Svengali lit up a Cuban. I fired-up my Ligua Privada. As we contemplated the sleek perfection that is my newly-pimped “assault rifle” I asked Nick about optics for the gun. “What do you want this gun for?” he enquired through a fragrant cloud of blue smoke . . .
My first reaction: the SCAR-16 is my SHTF outside gun. Should society break down, the Belgian battle rifle would be my go-to weapon to, um, defend myself and my family? I put the question mark at the end of that sentence because I don’t really anticipate this scenario.
Unlike my former digs in Providence’s tony East Side, my Texas home isn’t encircled by questionable neighborhoods. It’s a suburban enclave mostly populated by Asian and Indian information tech execs and their families. The kind of resourceful, civilized people who’d I’d turn to in a crisis. I reckon I’d be working with them, not against them.
OK sure, Zombie apocalypse. Total SHTF. But even that kind of dramatic (not-to-say cinematic) doomsday scenario takes a while to develop. (Hint: the garbage truck is MIA.) As of this writing, I’m more concerned about something sudden, like an asteroid strike or the Yellowstone caldera exploding (wiping out America’s breadbasket). Which would also take a few weeks or a couple of months to make daily life more . . . problematic. Unless the asteroid hits home. Then who cares?
In short, running out of cigars is a more pressing issue than gearing up for SHTF or TEOTWAWKI (extra water supply excepted).
At the same time, I’m something of a fatalist, one of those people who believes that no plan survives first contact with the enemy. If I didn’t have a SCAR-16 at hand and needed a gun, I’d use another gun (I have a few). If I didn’t have a gun, I’d use a knife. If I didn’t have either I’d do something. My father survived Nazi enslavement with nothing save the clothes on his back. I’m made of the same stuff.
So … what’s my SCAR-16 for?
My housekeeper just this second sat down, checked out the rifle, laughed and said, “GI Joe?” Actually, yes. I fully and freely admit that I enjoy taking my Blue Force sling-equipped SCAR out to the range and playing “pretend” soldier. Running around. Shooting from behind cover. Coordinating with my comrades. Doing combat reloads. That kind of thing.
I know this admission will give the antis ammunition for their endless, wrong-headed campaign for civilian disarmament. These pro-gun control elitists view this militia-style activity as a sign of paranoia-infused infantilism (even as they insist that the Second Amendment was designed for citizen militias, not individual gun rights). But if I needed to use my SCAR in an armed confrontation, my pseudo-military “play” might come in handy.
Anyway, what the hell’s wrong with having fun with a gun? Do people drive high-powered sports cars just for fun? Do people cook exotic meals with restaurant-quality equipment just for fun? Yes. Yes they do. And I shoot an expensive Belgian rifle for fun. It relieves stress, creates fellowship, engenders appreciation for armed professionals and puts a mile-wide grin on my face. In fact, I challenge an anti to come and shoot it and not have fun.
I know some of my readers won’t have made it to this point without screaming at the computer YOU DON’T NEED A REASON TO HAVE A SCAR! True dat. As stated above, the right to keep and bear arms is absolute. I have no need to justify owning and [legally] shooting my gun. Period.
What Nick was really asking: do I want an optic on top of my SCAR for close-quarters work or one that helps me shoot accurately at longer distances or something that does both. To which the only possible answer is. “yes.”
God bless America. Now, what else for my SCAR?